Page 36 of Service Included

“Whoa,” he breathed the word into the angle of her neck. “Want to do this right.” He maneuvered away from her efforts and switched his hands from her breasts to the skin on her inner arms. “Don’t make me come too fast.” His rough fingertips trailed along the fine nerves below her elbows, emphasizing that he was a man who worked with rocks and tools, in contrast to her soft office life.

Then he gripped her wrists. Firm and strong, but not scary. He placed the back of both her hands low by her side and slightly away from her body, making her into the living statue. The pose let her easily arch her back and thrust her chest toward him.

“Don’t move your hands.”

The command sent shivers of anticipation through her. “Then you have to take off my shorts.”

He was all business with her last two pieces of clothing.

She looked down the length of her own body, between the valley of her breasts, past the curve of her stomach, to where he knelt between her thighs. With this view, his penis seemed even larger and the groove where his thighs connected to his torso was as defined as a marble sculpture, distinctive enough she believed that she could lay the side of her hand in it.

Still on his knees, he held the strip of condoms and paused, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Even her breath froze as he tore open the plastic package and removed the protection inside. Watching him apply the condom while he watched her was the porniest thing she’d ever done. He performed, working his penis so she could see the hole at the end open when he pulled his skin back in his fist.When he finally covered the tip, the latex circle looked like lips enveloping the end of his cock before he unrolled the edges.

She wanted to reach up and push aside his hands to do this for him, weigh his balls in her palm and circle her fingers around him like he’d done for himself, but his gaze and her promise kept her pinned and immobile. She’d had no idea that visual imagery could cause her to become this slippery, that seeing him don a condom in front of her could arouse her until her buttocks tightened, lifting her toward him, or that she could feel soreadybefore he even touched herthere.

His hands fell to the jut of her hip bone and flattened her into the mattress. “You agreed not to move. Didn’t you?”

The shiver of desire caused by his deepened voice, his command, his question, liquefied her muscles and flattened her to the mattress. “Yes.” Her acquiescence stretched like a sigh.

“Good. Then watch me.”

That she couldn’t not do. All her attention focused on watching his hands spread wide to span her torso as he stroked from her hips into the dip of her waist and then up along her ribs. His thumbs met in the center of her chest and bumped up under her breasts, lifting them higher and closer together. She felt jittery and precariously balanced, even though she was flat on her back, as she kept watching him. Past the greedy points, tight and puckered with wanting, she saw his cock jutting straight toward her. Devoured by the desire for him to rub that hard stick between her legs, the need for him to pinch her nipples, to put his mouth on her, to give her the ride his body promised, she kept watching. But the peaks of her breasts, where sensitive skin changed to pure nerves, remained untouched.

“You’re so tense,” he murmured. His gaze alighted on her breasts, her shoulders, her lips, and made her so edgy, she feared she might break into shards like a dropped glass. His lips parted.

This would be it.

He lowered his head toward her breast, and she arched toward him, but then he clicked his tongue and retreated, leaving only the sensation of air across her skin.

She moaned again, moaned for the touch she needed. Moaned because she had to release this tension even if she shouldn’t move, so she forced her spine into the mattress and flattened her shoulders.

“When I get inside you, I’m going to tap out way too fast. So let’s play a little first.” His face was so close to her breast that her body assumed his mouth had touched the tip of her nipple each time he pursed his lips, even though her eyes insisted all he’d done was exhale. Her mind created an illusion from only breath and desire. “Some people can give an orgasm without physical contact.”

With effort, the backs of her calves stayed pressed to the mattress, and her hands dug into the ticking beside her thighs. Because she knew they would both win at the end, she could play his game.

His lips reshaped into a tight circle. “Blowing on erogenous zones like this”—she felt a tiny puff across her puckered skin and focused her conscious brain on remaining still, holding her breath so she didn’t cry out, keeping herself flat—“stimulates coolness.”

With his arms braced on either side of her rib cage and his knees between hers, he loomed over her like a dark wolf about to slake a thirst. The only contact between them was her inner thighs squeezing the outside of his knees, and yet her whole being was held in thrall.

“An open mouth warms and dampens skin.” His head lowered so close to her breasts that she knew this time, he would suckle. He must. She felt his mouth wrapping her in wet heat, but that was her mind telling her body what she wanted. Her eyes told the truth. He never touched her skin. And yet she felt a pullso intense from her breasts, through her body, to the yearning spots of her need, that he must have touched her.

“It’s an art form.” Another cool breeze, across her other breast. And then warmth.

She heard herself moan. It sounded far away. She didn’t think she could move, and yet at the same time, her breasts felt so intensely sensitive that something as simple as the weight of a hand or the friction of his chest might send her into a bacchanalian frenzy. While she waited, she saw his tongue. Wet. Pink. Close, so close. He could lap her nipple. A cat, with milk. Her brain, her body, thought he did. Only her eyes knew he didn’t. She shivered.

“Please.” The word broke past her clenched teeth and frozen throat.

“No.” The tip of his tongue curled on the edge of his top lip, but he didn’t touch her. “Not yet.” The casual denial, like he didn’t burn with the same need for connection, for penetration, for fulfillment, when she could see the quivering in his locked elbows, could hear the struggle in his own breathing, made her moan again. He had control. She had none.

“Please.” Her wholebeingneeded his parted lips to latch on the point of her nipple, his tongue to press and flick, his mouth to suck her deep, give her more. “Please, Nico, please.”

Instead of answering, he slid away, leaving empty air over her aching areolas. He lowered his chest and shoulders between her legs, spreading her farther.

She felt his breath on her inner thigh and closed her eyes to better drop into the sensations. The world disappeared, except for the sounds of his rough breathing, the rustle of their weight on the old mattress, the tiny suss of air leaving his lips. When every other part of her felt like the center of the sun, she shivered from the coolness he blew across her thigh. Every muscle in her buttocks and hips tensed, involuntarily lifting her pelvis tohis mouth. “Yes, please, oh please yes.” She was beyond words longer than that one plea.

“Stop moving.” His command was flat and sharp enough to slice the strings that pulled her body toward him, dropping her spine to the mattress. “I’m imagining your taste.”

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